Waning
by The Unmarked Trail
Summary: Crisp leaves, a cool breeze, and a wounded heart. The harvest moon over the lake draws both hunter and prey.


The leaves crunching in protest under her feet as she navigated the path were the only sound to be heard for miles around. Small hands slid into the pockets of tight jeans as the evening had taken a cool turn, as if the scorch of summer was a long forgotten memory. But Summer had barely disappeared from the scene, much like Joe had, Sammie thought wryly. They'd had their good times over the last three years, and Sammie had started to hope against hope for a bended knee and a white satin box, only instead of a shiny bauble Joe had presented her with the 'we need to talk' speech. He didn't want to be tied down, he didn't know what he wanted right now, maybe they should take a break and let him work some things out.

He'd worked things out all right, worked them right out of their skivvies and into his bed. While Sammie prided herself on being a trusting, levelheaded kind of girl, after a week of pitying looks from mutual friends and abrupt silences whenever she entered a room, Sammie had taken it upon herself to drive over to his apartment to try to talk things out. Her lonely week had given her time to think, time to analyze every moment of their relationship, and perhaps if she promised to be better, to nag less, to put on a pretty dress more often, to make more of an effort, to be more accepting of guys night out them maybe...

But Sammie's heart leapt as she stood in front of his door, and trying to summon the magic words that would make him see that he'd made a huge mistake. She had her fist up and was about to knock when she heard a girl's trilling laughter from behind the forest green door. She heard the jingle of keys, and then, before she could react, the door opened, and she was face to face with Joe and -

Amber. Amber, the girl that exemplified exactly why one should put on a glove before making love, the type of girl who had seen so much action in high school that the foot ball team retired ::her:: jersey. She met Sammie's eyes with the brazenness only someone like her could project, and flashed her a smile so smug that Sammie swore she could see yellow tail feathers peeking out from between her pouty lips.

Joe stammered, and made excuses that Sammie could not in process in her grief and rage. It was all she could do to shove him away when he made a move towards her, and then run down three flights of stairs to the safety of her car. Joe had torn after her, babbling apologies and entreaties, but she had slammed the door in response, and with every ounce of composure she had within her told him to fuck right off and that she never wanted to see him again. She had jammed the keys into the ignition with a fierceness that shocked even her, and then thrown the car into gear and sped off into the night, and away from him. Then, and only then, did she scream. And she had continued screaming through out her journey to the one place that made sense to her breaking heart right now.

Camp Crystal Lake.

She had sat in her car for what seemed like forever, screams eventually giving way to sobbing and shuddering. Finally when her throat felt like sandpaper, and her eyes stung like acid she opened the car door and sat quietly for a moment, letting the cool breeze caress her feverish brow. Then she started walking, following the winding trails until her car was out of sight. She walked further, hoping to put Joe out of her mind and gain some sort of release from the pain battering it's way about her skull like a trapped bird.

Sammie wasn't really sure what had driven her to impulsively drive out to the long abandoned summer camp grounds and the surrounding woods, but it was far from Royal Manor apartment complex, and far away from Joe and Amber, and that was good enough for her. She had ventured out here before, when she just wanted to get away from it all and indulge in a nature fix. The lake had always been delightful, the lapping waters like a lover's embrace, and the forest primeval fed her soul in a strange way. She'd spent several languid afternoons bathing in it's shimmering waters and admiring it's beauty before drying off and donning her clothes to make the trek back to society, feeling refreshed and ready to do face another day. In a way, she supposed she had instinctively gravitated to the pleasant memories of the land to flee from the cruel slings and arrows of love scorned.

Sammie shivered, and chiding herself for not thinking to bring a sweater. However, how could she have known that she would be spending her evening here in the woods, instead of curled up in Joe's arms as he swore to never leave again. Well, fuck him, and fuck Amber too, for the matter. Wait, no, scratch that, she didn't want to bathe in bleach afterwards. It was bad enough to be faced with the ugly truth, but why did it have to be AMBER of all people? Sammie liked to believe that Joe had good taste, he had dated her for over three years for chrissakes, what made him suddenly develop a taste for trash? At least, she hope his dumpster diving was a very recent trend, she needed to make an appointment down at the free clinic first thing in the morning. For now, she tried to push the ugliness of the evening from her mind, and focus on the trail before her.

Jason had watched the girl with the puffy, red face stumble through the woods for the last twenty minutes. Her travels seemed to be aimless, with no purpose to her steps. Something about her stride and flaming shock of hair was familiar, and he knew he had seen her out here before at the lake and on these trails, but never terribly often, and always in daylight. He vaguely wondered what had brought her to the woods this night -

His woods

and why she looked like she had been crying, but he didn't dwell on that for too long. For now he was content to watch, and wait. After the two girls earlier in the season, the campgrounds and the lake had been quiet, and he liked it that way, to be honest. After the years of jibes and insults borne as a child, Jason really felt nothing other than disdain for the rest of the population. Other than Mother, they were all just like the campers that had mocked him for his ugliness, and those counselors that had been too preoccupied with groping and grinding to notice one of their flock struggling for his life, the rushing waters and the blackness...

His hand tightened around the machete, eye narrowing. As she passed blindly by the tangle of trees he stood behind, something within tugged at him. The bloodlust that had remained dormant since his summer encounter with the star girl and the dark one that had reminded him of -

But not her, never her

began to pulse within him again, making the hair on his arms stand straight up. He could easily just reach out and grab her, she was so close. Her face, while still puffy around the eyes, was losing that wet, red look gradually, when he had first spotted her it had been as almost as red as her hair. He wondered if her blood would look just as red, spilled out for the dry ground to lap up like a pack of wild dogs.

But he waited and watched instead.

For now.

Sammie could swear that she heard something back there, but she was in no mood to give her imagination the free reign to speculate on exactly what type of horror might be lurking amongst the somber trees. A more insistent breeze dislodged the least tenacious of the dying leaves from their high perches, sending them twirling and spinning to the earth. She reached up to pull a few from her hair, taking a second to feel their papery skin against her fingers. It had been a dry summer, and apparently the lack of rainfall had stripped the trees of their will to hold onto their glory any longer then necessary. Had she made the trek in the daytime, she was sure she would have been treated to a plethora of reds, browns, and rusty greens, but the moonlight that illuminated the path was far too stingy and content only to silver everything with it's cold glow.

Again, she heard the dry snap of a twig, and this time she did stop to peer out into the woods surrounding her. Sammie might have been a bit of a johnny come lately to the area, but even an out of towner like her had heard the campfire tale of the vengeful specter that haunted these grounds. It had been one of the first bits of local colour she had heard upon moving out here the past year,

to be with Joe, of course, how fucking stupid of her -

the tale of the drowned one, the boy with the twisted features and stunted mind that had spent his last moments thrashing wildly in the sparkling waters of Camp Crystal one bright summer day in June almost thirty years ago. If the idea of a deformed, vengeful spirit that prowled the woods in search of those who had let his lungs fill with brackish, foul water was not enough, there had been the very real murders that had taken place a few years back, reportedly perpetrated by the former camp cook and mother of the dead boy to think about. Of course, there was nothing to fear now, as the murderess had met a gruesome end at the hands of her last intended victim who, as the story went, had severed her head from her body with her own blade.

Sammie was sure that while the story of the drowned camper and the decades later murder spree had been real enough, that the other aspects of the tale had surely been embellished and added to over the years, as was the case with all good scary stories. No, there was no damp shade of a vengeful child or his enraged mother stalking these woods now, and whatever had made that noise off in the distance had not burst out of the gloom to claim her head as a trophy, so she shook the notion off and continued walking. If anything, the tragic events of Camp Crystal Lake meant that no one was likely to be roaming these woods at night or any other time, and she was glad for that. While she still had no destination in mind, Sammie knew she was not yet ready to face the harsh realities awaiting her outside of these woods, so she kept walking. In a way, these woods seemed an almost magical, if dark, place, and provided the escape she needed right now. No longer concerned with a possible monster lurking somewhere out there, the next time she heard the sound of snapping and crackling she paid it no mind.

Jason continued to stealthily track his prey, moving throughout the trees as seamlessly as if they were extensions of his own body. If Jason knew anything, it was these woods that had sheltered and embraced him for many years. He knew ever twist and turn of the many paths, and he was so intimate with the surrounding he could navigate the land blindfolded. If the lake, in her cold embrace had served as a mother in a way, birthing him from the murky water choking, sputtering and yet changed upon her shores, then these woods were like a father, providing him with the knowledge acquired through experience that he'd needed to survive within it. Perhaps it was this animistic view towards the land that explained why his veins were beginning to twitch with the desire to take the girl by her red locks and neatly sever her head in imitation of the blow that had cost his real mother her life. Perhaps he would even carry it back to his hovel so mother could have some company there other than her murderer, and take comfort in not having been the only one to have lost her head.

He wondered if she would start crying again when she saw him, and if her face would turn that interesting shade of red again if she did. Other than the time he had traveled to that mother killer's flat to avenge her murder, Jason was not really one to engage in the vicious game of toying with his prey. However, perhaps this time he would make an exception, if only to see if he could evoke the same reaction she'd displayed upon entering these woods. While she didn't really stir anything inside of him like the dark one who now lay beneath a cairn of dead branches and stone had, there was a slim thread of curiosity that beckoned to him.

Why exactly had the girl been crying? He'd observed nothing here that could have caused her to do so, and she hadn't seen him yet, so that was not a possible factor. Not like that night he'd happened upon that girl who had decided to seek shelter beneath one of the ancient trees and had awakened from her fitful sleep only to come face to face with what, judging from her reaction, had been far worse than whatever she had been dreaming of. They always screamed and cried, what was new? Nothing at all special about this girl and her tears, she'd be shedding more so again soon enough, he was sure of it. They always did. Nothing special.

The sound of footsteps crunching over dead leaves assailed his senses, and he knew the time was right. The girl had paused again, to stare off into the heart of the woods and his hand gripped the machete decisively.

She knew that this latest and loudest crack was no figment of her imagination, and the realization caused her to stop stock still in her tracks. No, there was definitely someone out here in these woods, she was now certain of it. The footsteps grew closer, and suddenly a dark figure came barreling out of the gloom and towards her.

"Sammie, wait!"

Disbelief washed over her as she recognized Joe's voice amongst the suddenly deafening din of rustling leaves and snapping branches. He stopped a few feet from her, huffing with exertion. His pack a day habit had not been kind to his lungs, and his sprint through the woods made that painfully evident.

"Sammie, I'm sorry! Please, she doesn't mean anything to me, it was all just a stupid mistake! You are the one I want, Sammie, only you!" He wheezed, hands bracing against his legs as he gasped for breath. "I saw Kevin at the gas station, and he said he'd passed you heading out this way. I've been looking for you out here for over an hour Sammie, please..."

The surreality of the situation left Sammie's head spinning. She'd come out here to get Joe out of her mind, and yet he knew her own mind well enough to figure out that she'd come here of all the places she could have been heading when Kevin had passed her on the road. It was a bitter pill to swallow that someone who could know her own heart so well could also be capable of crushing it so completely. It was all she could do to stare at him in utter disbelief, as the words continued to pour out of him.

"Sammie, please say something... I know I fucked up, I know I did. But believe me, I only want to be with you, and I'm so stupid that I only realized how much I wanted you when I lost you. Sammie, please... Sammie, I'm so sorry," and with these words he dropped to his knees, and grasped at her hand, in a grotesque mockery of the moment she had been wishing for. She gaped down at him in disbelief, as he continued to plead with her, promises spilling from his lips like the leaves that were drifting down around them in the chilly autumn wind.

"Sammie, please say something, anything! Call me a bastard, kick me, spit on me, just please say something..."

Sammie's lips parted then and Joe leaned in expectantly, only for her to look up and over his head and shriek as she saw the misshapen, hulking figure of a man clutching an obscenely wicked blade that loomed over her kneeling ex-boyfriend. Joe barely had time to turn to face his attacker before the blade came down with the force of a ton of bricks, neatly bisecting his head from crown to upper mandible. All the colour drained from Sammie's face as her stomach twisted horrifically and her heart leapt into her throat. Gagging, she stared up with dinner plate wide eyes as he effortlessly withdrew the blade from the mangled remains of Joe's once handsome face. The monster's grip on the handle of the machete lodged in his skull had been the only thing holding Joe's body upright, and now bereft of blade the body slumped over onto Sammie's feet, blood seeping into the canvass to soak her socks. Sammie could only gape in horror as the gore slick blade rose again, this time surely seeking to make her acquaintance. But the blade didn't come down, and it was all she could do to look up at him with frightened eyes, and pray that her end would come soon.

Although Jason had swiftly dispatched the unexpected intruder efficiently, when he was face to face with his intended prey, he held back for a long moment. The girl seemed too dazed to attempt to escape him straight away, and even if she did catching her wouldn't be a problem, especially with so little of a head start should she even regain her senses to try. Perhaps his earlier appraisal of her had not been accurate. While he had dismissed her as nothing special, it was indeed unusual to be this close to one of his victims prior to their death and be met with only silence. Jason knew she was terrified, the wet spot gracing her denim clad legs attested to that if the look on her face had not been enough, but for whatever reason she was not crying as she had been earlier, nor had she screamed after her initial outburst. It was puzzling, and a bit unsettling.

Suddenly anger welled within him. He hated it when things - and people - didn't make sense. It made him feel robbed of what precious little intelligence he had to begin with, and no thief was going to make it out of these woods alive. Pretty girls like this should always react the same way: throwing terrified glances from wet eyes over their shoulders as they hauled ass through the trees, running for their lives. Even his Queen Chris Higgins had failed to disappoint in that respect. Pretty girls had a reason to act that way: his awful face, his ill fitting, stolen clothes, and the smell about him that was like a battle-bled knight drained of his fluid and laid to rest on the altar of an underground tomb, sealed in forever with the scent of candles whose flames never went out, dripping their melted wax onto mummified fingers that drummed themselves on the stones as the final memories in the cooling clay of a brain spoke of when those fingers touched silky thighs, and slid through the soft hair of a maiden. His blade was raised up high as his own brain pictured those fingers twitching down there, below the ground in a grave of opulence and treasure, the knight's loved ones having filled the stone chamber with all sorts of trinkets in celebration of the noble things he had achieved. The battles fought and won, the women touched, entered and satisfied. He had never had those things, and he didn't even have a grave.

It could be back there at the lake, which sparkled like a midnight jewel just through a stand of nearby trees, but funny thing was, even his grave had rejected him. Spat him out like a bug flown into the happy mouth of someone at a summer picnic, getting ready to eat something tasty. Now he walked the earth as a thing not dead and certainly not alive.

And now, with that realization, came yet another rejection. A rejection of the basic fear a victim always showed their killer. This girl Sammie was standing before him with her shredded boyfriend at her feet, on her feet, and doing nothing to save herself, or even flee. She was looking him straight in the eye, her breath hanging like ghostly white vapors in the air. Her arms dangled at her sides uselessly, like stopped pendulums, and it was then that he noticed her fingers twitching like the knight of his vision. He had been thinking even in death of the maiden his hands loved to touch, and maybe the same was true of this girl. The man at her feet. Another back in a town somewhere, pining away because she was owned by this blathering jackass. The fantasy of one who lived in the woods and off the land, a strong man with hands able to fell a tree in half a dozen blows as long as he had a good ax-

Hands that had chopped more than just trees with that ax.

Hands that twitched with thoughts of his own maiden, sure, but mostly with thoughts of chopping down intruders who thought they could stumble through his graveyard and kick over headstones without so much as a frown. Intruders from those far off towns that would reject him in a heartbeat were he to pull off the pillowcase. No dalliance with a maiden like this, even one whose slender fingers twitched with thoughts of precious touching. She would never leave the towns for someone like him, a freak whose own grave had rejected him.

His blade hand twitched, suddenly struck by a horrid rigidity when with most others it was so limber. He needed to make the decision now to stop the pounding in his head, the stupid fantasies of taking this girl with hair the color of flame into his arms, back to his shack, for if it wasn't silenced soon, it would become his roar that tore through the delicate fabric of the night instead of her scream. But he was already too late, for the dam had burst and a roar was crashing through the forest now, only it was different than his own usual, guttural cries. The two of them looked up at the trail ahead as twin beams of light appeared, bathing them in a harsh glow. An engine revved, tires squealing. Suddenly he knew what it was. A red car was coming straight for them, swerving wildly. It scraped its passenger door along the side of a tree before skidding out of control, fishtailing itself 90 degrees towards the lake, where it shot like a comet. They could only watch as it disappeared out of sight, the sound of its psychotic tires rolling and bumping along the old, faded boards of the was a great splash then, and all was quiet.

Sammie ran then, tearing across the land and through the trees towards the scene of the accident.

Jason followed. She was becoming more vocal, shouts becoming more articulate until they were pleas for the driver to answer. Her sprint and his shamble soon brought them to the shore. The car had raced along the dock, taking a chunk out of a support post before plunging headfirst into the black water. It's back end was drifting farther out as the currents sunk their claws into the rapidly filling car.

Jason knew how it felt. His lungs had filled the same way as the monster dragged him far from shore, not that it mattered anyway. Those on land didn't care one way or the other. And tonight, he was the same. He stood and watched as Sammie ran along the dock in a mad panic,kicking off her shoes before jumping into the cold water. Jason admired how quickly and elegantly she swam, even in her frayed emotional state. There was no mindless thrashing, no manic pounding at the water. Soon she had reached the car, and then her head bobbed below the surface, leaving him if they never came up?

Would he actually venture out into those dark waters to check on his would be victims?

He wandered out of the tree-line and towards that dock, whose boards now featured twin trails of black rubber. Out on the lake, the car was sinking quicker now. The tail lights were like two emergency beacons, plates of red that cast their glow over the rippling waves. Those waves were lapping over them now, and soon the car was the latest victim of Crystal Lake. Quite possibly the first victim of Crystal Lake not killed by him or his mother since his drowning.

His own breath puffed out on the cold night air as he stood on the dock, watching the spot where the car had gone down. He actually had time to hope that the girl's fiery hair transcended the figurative and gave her some real heat in her final moments before two heads burst up from the depths. Gasping and moaning, Sammie had the driver of the car in tow, and was dragging her back to the dock.

Jason just blinked. Noticing him up there, she huffed and puffed her way past it and directly to the sandy beach, hauling herself and the woozy driver up and out of the oily water. It was another girl.

"Amber!" Sammie shouted frantically, lightly slapping the girl's 's brain was in overdrive. After meeting the Wendigo of the woods face to face, and watching him murder Joe, who had already put her through intense agony himself, she was now face to face with the bitch who had destroyed her life with a few shakes of her ass. She hadn't recognized the car as it made its mad dash through the trees, and certainly not when it was ass up in the middle of the lake, but swimming out to it she had noticed something horrible. The personalized license plates which the floozy had done up to look like regular letters and numbers: MBR 001. But still, despite their history, she was trapped in that car, destined for a watery grave unless Sammie did something.

So she had. She had dived down and pulled the harlot through the open driver's window, away from the balloon of an air bag that had saved the wench from impacting the steering wheel or windshield, since she had of course not been wearing her seatbealt. Then she had dragged her to the surface, shocked anew at the sight of Jason Voorhees standing on the dock. She had almost forgotten about him. He watched them quietly, machete leaning against a dock support. Amber was unconscious but still alive, moaning and writhing around. He's just going to kill you both as soon as you get to shore. But what choice did she have? The other shore was way too far with the way the freezing water was already sapping her muscles of their strength. They would never make it. At least on dry land there was a chance to run again.

She towed Amber past the hulking behemoth on the dock and to the sandy beach, collapsing to her knees as she slapped the girl on both cheeks, opening her mouth with her fingers to let the air in. The other girl started to gag and wretch, coughing up lake water. Her perfect makeup was smeared, her skin pale.

"Amber! Wake up!" Suddenly her eyes popped open.

Sammie breathed a sigh of relief, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Jason had come back along the dock to dry land himself. He made no move to kill either of them, instead continuing to watch, as if the whole affair slightly amused him and was a sufficient time killer before commencing with the slaughter. Amber's eyes flickered to Jason and widened, finally coming back around to meet Sammie's gaze.

"New boyfriend already, huh?" she laughed weakly, a thin trail of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. Sammie couldn't resist a low chuckle, not even sure she was in her own universe anymore."Joe always loved you more," Amber sputtered. The girl seemed to be fading, eyes darting around, from Sammie to Jason and then down to her purse, which was wrapped around her waist by the cord.

"Don't worry about that now," Sammie said softly, wiping wet hair out of her eyes. "I need to get you out of these woods and to a hospital." Amber laughed again, still fumbling with the purse.

"He once screamed your name during sex, did you know that?" Sammie had no time to respond before a gunshot echoed through the stillness of the night. She flinched as a bright blossom of pain flared up in her stomach. Amber smiled. A thin trail of smoke wafted up from the gun she had pulled from the fell backwards off the girl and landed on her side, touching the bloody wound in her belly.

Jason stomped off the dock then, his neglected weapon clattering to the dock and then falling over the side with a splash. He was at her side in a second, sinking to his knees in the sand much like he had that night, beside his mother's corpse. She was going to die staring up into the face of Jason Voorhees, she thought then, and it hadn't even been him who killed her. Jason brushed a wet lock of that beautiful red hair away from her bloodless face and suddenly leapt to his feet, a roar issuing forth from his throat as he went over to where Amber was laying.

The machete itself sinking to the bottom, he had no choice but to use himself as a weapon. having sunk And he did.

Lifting a leg, he sent his big, muddy boot crashing down onto the girl's face. Amber gurgled, her legs twitching and jerking. Finally, she was silent. Jason turned from the corpse and knelt back down at Sammie's side then, stroking her cheek tenderly. She focused on that tragic face with the twisted features, a face that was showing genuine sympathy now, and pain. If she wasn't mistaken, she thought she saw tears in his eyes.

Joe never cried in front of me. Not once.

She smiled weakly, her own lips bloody like Amber's.

His killing of her murderer deserved something in return, and quick, before the darkness that was already rushing to meet her claimed her. "Jason," she said quietly, almost lovingly, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Thank you."

Their eyes were locked for a moment more, one set green like the leaves of the forest at the height of summer but dimming now, the other uneven, one cloudy. But the eye of his that was pristine shed a tear that ran down his cheek and over her Sammie died, and Jason Voorhees found himself screaming yet again as he shivered on a bloody beach beside that black pit of a lake.


End file.
